


A Letter of Interest

by Dorsetgirl_hetfic (DorsetGirl)



Series: Letters With Marie-Angelique [3]
Category: Sharpe (TV), Sharpe - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorsetGirl/pseuds/Dorsetgirl_hetfic
Summary: Sharpe awaits Marie-Angelique’s arrival and allows himself to daydream about a future with her.
Relationships: Marie-Angelique Bonnet & Richard Sharpe
Series: Letters With Marie-Angelique [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201298
Kudos: 1





	A Letter of Interest

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place about ten days after _Letter of Invitation._

~ ~ ~

After Michel Bonnet had taken his letter for Marie-Angelique and set off to Paris, Sharpe found it hard to settle to anything. With the improving weather he was out on the land early each day, clearing the mud of winter rains from the ditches, repairing the roof of the hen house where a February storm had brought a heavy branch from its sheltering tree upon it, and more recently repairing and limewashing the cowhouse. He’d wondered about buying a few more horses because he found them far more interesting than cows, but this wasn’t the time to be making major changes about the farm.

The only thing that gave some kind of shape to his life was looking out for the carter, who went by on Thursdays. One week there had been a letter from Patrick Harper, reminding him that there was always a welcome for him in Dublin should he so wish; another week brought a letter from the South Essex reminding him about the Regimental Dinner in commemoration of the Battle of Waterloo, to be held in the summer. Sharpe put them both aside without reply while he waited to hear from Marie-Angelique.

Finally the day arrived which his calculations had told him was the soonest she might arrive and he was up even earlier than usual. It still seemed odd to get up and stroll about his land instead of cleaning his gun and taking tea as he checked all his men were ready for what the day might bring. He missed the early morning camaraderie, the men joking to cover the ever-present awareness that today might be their last, though he didn’t miss the cold and the discomfort and the knowledge that it might also be his own last day on earth.

He walked his boundaries and wondered whether he should shoot a few rabbits for supper, then reasoned that politeness would dictate that Marie-Angelique call upon her aunt soon after she arrived. The two of them could not enjoy a private dinner until she had fulfilled her social obligations around the neighbourhood. 

It had been a shock to discover that Marie-Angelique’s uncle and his wife lived so close and that his distant Indian travel companion was well-known in the town where he sent his milk to market. The local people spoke of Marie-Angelique with respect and admiration, though with a certain reserve for her "high spirits". He still thought it odd that she hadn’t mentioned knowing the area, but he realised that she wouldn’t have wanted to complicate matters when he’d probably made it clear he was in a hurry to be away. 

Eventually the position of the sun told him it was time to take some dinner, but before he could reach the house a call from the road had him turning, heart beating faster. He saw with disappointment that it was only his neighbour’s outdoor man waving a letter, but he smiled politely enough as he went to greet him.

“Bonjour Jean-Pierre, ça va bien? J'aurai peut-être besoin de ton fils pour prendre un message cet après-midi.”

“Eh, bien, Colonel, merci de demander, et je vais lui dire. Vous avez une lettre - Monsieur hier l’a porté de la ville.”

Sharpe took the letter, remembering at the last moment to thank the man. His heart sank as he recognised the graceful handwriting - she was hardly likely to be sending him a letter if she herself was already on her way.

He thanked Jean-Pierre again and told him he probably wouldn’t be needing Jean-Marie after all, then hurried back to the house. No nonsense this time about getting the jobs done before opening the letter, he just sat himself down by the fire and broke the seal impatiently.

~ ~ ~

Mon cher Richard,

J’ai été tellement heureuse de recevoir votre lettre. You say to me “visitez-moi” and so I will, as soon as may be arranged !

My uncle Michel has explained you were in a hurry to write this letter and so I do not mind that it is not full of flowery compliments. He reminds me - as if I would forget ! - that you are a military man and not a courtier, and besides I am sure you know I would prefer a brief letter de mon colonel favori than the longest and most elegant letter from some stupid man who knows nothing of the world outside of Paris.

It makes my heart a little warmer to know you have thought of me sometimes. Michel will have told you something of my life here in Paris since I returned from India: the life of an unmarried woman in these times contains different adventures from those you and I have shared, and in truth they are not adventures at all, more like a series of très petites guerres. In the way of our society, young men advance and I retreat, they send out scouts to parley and in response I strengthen the walls. 

As a soldier you will understand what I mean.

Mon cher Colonel, I will discuss with Maman when she can spare me to visit you. I hope it will be very soon. I have no silver locket to seal this letter with, but I have much respect that your wife and daughter are still close to your heart, and a little hope that there might some day be a place there for me also.

Bien à vous, 

Je vous prie d’agréer, cher Richard, l’expression de mes meilleures salutations.

Marie-Angelique

~ ~ ~

He realised he was holding Teresa’s locket as he read Marie-Angelique’s artless words. He thought it was probably a good thing that Marie-Angelique was willing to talk about Teresa - Lucille had been wonderful but Teresa had shaped him as an officer and as a man, and he could not contemplate a future in which he might never talk about her again because some new wife might not like it.

That was the second time, he realised, that he’d thought of Marie-Angelique in terms of marriage, yet what did he have to offer her? A life tied to a patch of medium-quality land in Normandy, or a rootless existence travelling between London and Paris and Dublin trying to find somewhere they could both be happy? It didn’t sound enough for a woman who had already travelled Europe and the length of India, stayed in palaces and bedded down in sacked villages and make-shift camps.

Come off it, he thought crossly, you haven’t seen the woman in years - who knows what she’ll be like now? Though he had to say that in her letters she sounded pleasingly like the woman he remembered, and he had certainly understood her message about guarding her heart and her virtue. He stood up purposefully, determined to eat his dinner before allowing himself any more thoughts about when she might arrive.

He told himself firmly, and willed himself to believe it, that while it was a woman’s job to dream about where a petal-strewn path might some day lead, a man’s job was to hold his fire till he saw the lie of the land.

~ ~ ~


End file.
